It Could be Sweet
by ann no aku
Summary: Rose and the Doctor talk about family.


**It Could be Sweet**

**ann no aku**

**Plot:** Rose and the Doctor talk about family.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Doctor Who.

**Notes:** Takes place between the episodes _Fear Her_ and _Army of Ghosts_ in Series II.

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For the first time since the start of her travels with the Doctor, Rose woke early (and without him having to bribe her out of bed, too). What the Doctor had said about being a father once had kept her up for the past few nights and had allowed little to no sleep. Rose swung her feet over the side of her bed and stepped carefully into her slippers. She grabbed her hoodie and zipped it up as she made her way down the winding, narrow halls to the control room. She supposed that the TARDIS had given her a longer walk than usual to gather her thoughts.

Under the central console is where Rose found him—his feet jangling out of beat to some horrible song he was humming. For a moment, she stood in the doorway watching him, believing to be unnoticed. That is, until he asked her how long she was going to stand there and if she'd pass him the torch. Rose plopped down on the floor next to him and held her chin in her hands, nudging the light to him with the toe of her slipper.

"You're still in your pyjamas?" he asked, his question muffled by the torch he was holding between his teeth. The Doctor's hand had brushed against her foot when grabbing for the light. "And I got my hopes up!"

"Sorry," she mumbled. "What time is it anyway?"

"You were in bed for five hours," he replied, understanding her well enough to answer her real question.

She noticed that he didn't say 'asleep'. _Which means,_ she thought,_ he knew I couldn' sleep._ "Oh."

He pulled himself free from under the controls and look at her. His specs were askew and his hair tousled as though he had wrestled whatever he was fixing into submission. "Penny for your thoughts? Well, you use pounds, so the correct way to ask would be 'pence for your thoughts', but that's not how the saying goes, is it? Isn't a penny one cent and a pence like many cents? How do you say 'one pence'? Pent? No, that doesn't sound right. Let's go with one pence. Either way, it doesn't matter because I don't have a dime on me." He waved his hand dismissively. "Rather, ten pence. Nope, not one red cent . . .or pent. Pence!" he corrected. "So, to get to the point, what's on your mind, Rose?" The Doctor clapped his hands together, snapping her back to the present.

Not wanting to be grumpy and show that she hadn't been getting enough sleep, Rose had let him ramble without interrupting. It had been a good distraction from her thoughts, even if she was going to have to answer his question. "Nothing," Rose lied, swallowing back a yawn. Catching his eye, she amended. "Jus' couldn' sleep, is all."

The Doctor joined her on the floor, sitting close to her—their hips and shoulders touched. "Do you want to talk about it? Not sleeping, I mean," he hastily added, rectifying his mistake. He had folded his glasses and put them back inside his pocket, no longer intent on working.

"I was jus' thinkin' 'bout what you said when we were on Earth," she tentatively began.

"Which bit? I said a lot of stuff then, and that was two days ago." He nudged her with his elbow, trying to coax a smile out of his Rose.

"You said," she paused, meeting his stare. "You said that you were a dad once."

Ah. "Yes. Yes, I did."

"But you're the last of your people now, yeah? So, I was wonderin' if you wanted another family. I-I don' necessarily mean kids or a wife or anythin'!" Rose quickly said, seeing the looking on his face—a cross between trying to control his emotions and a bit hurt. "It's jus' that forever is a long time to be alone."

For a long second, he didn't say anything. Despite sitting so close to her they were touching, the Doctor had stiffened and felt uncomfortably cold. He couldn't feel her warmth, having just had the memory of his world exploding flash before his eyes. He forced a grin on his face and nudged her again. "I'm not alone, Rose Tyler. I've got you to keep my company."

She smiled back at him, noticing that his tone didn't match the look in his ancient eyes. "I can' live forever, Doctor. What will you do when 'm gone?"

"Oh, you know," he flippantly replied. "I'll travel around, pick up some new companions. I've been doing this for centuries."

"But none of them are here now. Y-You got rid of Sarah Jane, I don' know anythin' 'bout your other companions or your family-"

"Well, what do you want to know?" he interrupted, desperate to keep his voice in check. It wasn't easy for him to talk about such things. Why must he dwell on the past?

Much to his surprise, Rose reached out and grabbed his hand. Instantly, he felt himself calm down. "I guess what 'm tryin' to say is," she swallowed, "I can be your family. Me an' my mum. Mickey, too." She laughed at the look of momentary horror on his face. "Well, maybe not Mickey, yeah?"

He gulped, knowing exactly where the conversation was going. "Maybe not Jackie, either," he said with a slight shudder.

"So, jus' me, then?"

The hopeful smile on her face nearly broke his hearts. "Of course," he agreed. "My traveling companion, my family, like a little sister. Or granddaughter!" he added as an afterthought. "I used to travel with my granddaughter, you know. Susan Foreman was her name. She stayed on earth to marry David Gamble or something," he waved again, as though insulted that his own family had abandoned him. The Doctor hadn't minded at the time, but now that he was alone it hurt a lot more. "I don't know what happened to her. If she were alive, I'd know. Time Lords can feel each other; that's how I know I'm truly alone—last in the universe." He turned to look at her after having shied away to distract himself. "Besides," he continued, "I don't do domestics. I'm happy just traveling. Don't really need a family—just a friend."

Rose bit her lip, understanding what he was saying. She did her best to keep her voice steady as she spoke to him, not wanting him to know how much he had hurt her. "Right. Well, you may not do domestics, Doctor, but I do. I have a ton of laundry to do and still need to give my mum that bazulium." She stood up faster than she had intended, startling the Doctor. To continue her act of indifference, she brushed away some invisible dust on her palms and smiled. "Come on, then! I'll go get ready."

The Doctor watched as she bound down the halls to her room. He had upset her and knew it. Now, Rose wanted to go home and it was his fault. Yet, despite all that, he had done it for her own good. He couldn't love her. He couldn't bring himself to lose someone else—a lover, a wife, a family again.

But he did. In less than a day after their discussion, he lost his lover. He lost Rose. Forever.


End file.
